


Stop Me If You've Heard This One

by LukaFawn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Europa (Comics)
Genre: Amputation, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Joker Knows Who Batman Is, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Secret Identity Fail, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LukaFawn/pseuds/LukaFawn
Summary: In which Bane actually rips off Joker's arm in Europa, Batman is doing his best but Bruce Wayne is better, and Joker enjoys traumatizing people.





	1. One Long Month

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, I want to explain a few things. First of all, this is based on a _what if_ scenario in which Batman had waited a few minutes more before distracting Bane and gave Bane the chance to rip off Joker's arm. I'm 100% sure that that's what Bane had intended to do (literally rip Joker limb from limb) and I'm almost sad that they didn't go that route in the comic. The whole idea came from a single comic page in Europa, [Page 117 (non-spoiler page).](https://readcomicbooksonline.org/reader/Batman_Europa/Batman_Europa_\(2016\)/117)
> 
> Second, I've made this Batman physically look like the one from White Knight for the sole purpose of I love [the Height Difference between Joker and Batman (non-spoiler page)](https://readcomicbooksonline.org/reader/Batman_White_Knight/Batman_White_Knight_\(2017\)_1/7).

By the time they entered Rome, Joker was so sick that he couldn’t laugh anymore. The fever burned him up from the inside out and lent a painful edge to everything. He was worried about Batman more than he cared to admit. The Bat was losing his fucking mind a lot faster than Joker was.

 

Batman grabbed Joker by the coat and hauled him close. His breath smelled like iron and heat. His blue eyes were unfocused, angry, confused. “Have you listened to a single word I’ve said, you maniac?” 

 

Joker lifted his lips in a silent snarl. “You didn’t say anything. We were walking down the via, you spun, grabbed me, and spewed this...batitude.” If they lived through this virus, Joker would have to congratulate himself on that one. 

 

For a moment Batman looked more confused than angry while his fever-idled brain tried to keep up. Then the anger returned full force. “The Colossus virus might make staying focused harder by the minute, Joker, but I know whoever led us around Europe had it all planned from the beginning.” Batman tossed Joker away like he was garbage. “And I know just who that might be…”

 

The warning hung in the air and Joker scoffed. “Hey!” His Bat must be going even crazier than Joker thought. Funny how all it took was a life-eating virus to make him fall. Joker would have to try this again under a more controlled setting. If he lived. “You must be crazy to have to make me the rational one, but fine.”  He staggered and followed after Batman. “If you think I’ve infected myself...or that I value your death more than my life then you’ve really taken ‘ _ when in Rome’  _ to heart.” 

 

Batman didn’t answer, just kept walking. 

 

So Joker kept talking. It kept his mind off the way colorful lights surrounded everything and how weak he was becoming. He taunted Bats about having a thing for some historic guys; he totally did, too, it was great fodder. 

 

“Basta!” Batman bit out.  _ Enough!  _ He stopped. “We’re here.” 

 

Joker barely glanced at the coliseum. They walked into the monument. Dead guards hung from the walls. Most of them looked like they’d been torn apart limb from limb. “Hmm...Judging by the state of security, I’d say there’s a new Emperor in town.”

 

Something was burning beautifully in the center. The heat from the flames fanned the fire inside. Joker wanted to shed the jacket he wore, strip down to his batman-themed boxers. He didn’t because he recognized this part; it was the boss fight. 

 

The first thing the boss did was insult Batman. 

 

Joker leapt to his defense. Bats was emotionally constipated but he wasn’t stupid.  

 

Bats literally shoved him out of the way. His eyes were focused solely on the man in front of them. He demanded to know what the man wanted. 

 

Was this how a Robin felt when Batman went after Joker? Ugh.  He didn’t recognize the man talking to them. It nagged at the back of his fever-idled mind. Something about it made Joker want to laugh but he couldn’t force the noise past his throat. The boss was monologuing about how they could pass each other on the street and not know it when they looked like normal people. Who was smart enough to do this? Surely not Nygma or Crane.  There was that size, too. There weren’t many super villains that big; just Croc and… “Oh crap.” 

 

Bane put on his mask and shed the coat he wore. He bellowed at them like a bull and if Joker hid behind Batman that was his own business. He only had a second to realize this before he and Bats were being picked up and smashed together like toys in the hands of a playing child. Then they were both being smashed into the ground. 

 

Joker groaned weakly. That  _ hurt _ . He heard a crunch when Batman landed. Something must have broken in the Bat. 

 

Batman, ever the fighter, was rolling onto his knees. His reflexes were that much slower. “You can’t kill me, Bane. Don’t you know that?” 

 

“No.” Bane punched Batman in the back of the head. 

 

Bane grabbed Joker by the collar of his suit and yanked him backwards. Joker lost track of the conversation for a moment. A huge fist collided with his abdomen and several ribs broke. Bane dropped Joker a second time. 

 

Immediately, Joker scrambled out of the way. Every breath and movement sent sharp pain through his abdomen. Joker hated fighting Bane even though he always won their fights. Now, it looked like Bane was getting some sort of revenge. But why? He and Joker rarely ever fought. Even then it was just business. Nothing personal between them. Once he was safe behind a wall, he twisted around to fixate puppy dog eyes on Bane. “But why infect  _ me?  _ I don’t get it. I mean, it isn’t funny.” 

 

“Don’t you dare hurt him, Bane!” 

 

Joker’s heart gave a painful squeeze that had nothing to do with his bodily trauma. Bats had to of lost it if he was spouting out things like that about Joker. He heard a fight but didn’t turn around. 

 

“Ah, so now you understand.” Bane sounded strangely happy. “That’s all I was waiting for, detective. That light to go on.” Joker thought they were seeing plenty of lights right now. “You needed to know that you can’t live without Joker-” 

 

What? Someone else figured it out too? Oh no...

 

“-Before I kill him.” Bane had found him. He punched Joker again, didn’t hold back at all despite the fact that he’d already broken the clown’s ribs. 

 

Joker tasted blood in his throat. He felt something inside break and convulse. His ribs splintered beneath his skin from the impact. 

 

The next punch was to Joker’s face. It rattled the teeth in his skull but mercifully didn’t dislodge any of them. Bane was distracted with talking to Batman; the punch didn’t pack quite as much of a kick. 

 

Joker collapsed to the ground like a rag doll. He struggled to breathe. 

 

Bane dropped a knee onto the small of Joker’s back. 

 

His pain was so strong that Joker couldn’t even scream. Joker was pinned under Bane. If he hadn’t been sick he may have been able to wiggle free; even with the broken ribs. As it was, he could barely crawl. 

 

Bane stopped that little movement with a hand on his head, shoving Joker’s face into the dirt. His hand was as big as Joker’s whole head. 

 

Joker didn’t want to die like this. Not like this. He was supposed to die at Batman’s hands or live forever. A soft whimper of weakness slipped past his lips. “N-no.”

 

Bane grabbed Joker’s right arm with the hand that wasn’t holding his head down. He started pulling back.

 

It _ hurt _ ! Joker reached out for his Bat. 

 

Bane kept pulling. 

 

The bones in Joker’s arm shattered and Joker couldn’t hold in the loud groan of agony. This pain didn’t feel good. Not at all. His stomach twisted with nausea. He wanted it to stop! Where was Batman? 

 

Bane adjusted his grip. Then he yanked on Joker’s arm. 

 

There was an awful pause, a moment which seemed slowed down and Joker felt his muscle and flesh tearing and the way his joint popped sickly from his shoulder. Joker  _ screamed _ . It sounded like nothing that had ever come from his mouth before; beastial and high. It sounded like the noise an animal made right before it died. Joker’s mind blanked. All he knew was pain. He couldn’t even think about what happened; it was just pain, pain,  _ pain!  _

 

Batman roared. It was beastial, primal, full of rage. It was a sound that terrified most people whether they were criminals or not. 

 

Joker was glad to hear it. He was gladder when Bane’s weight was gone and he could lay there in pain. His entire body shook, teeth chattering with the pain of it. Joker’s vision faded in and out as he struggled to remain conscious. The damn virus was killing Bats and the blood loss was killing Joker and Batman was killing Bane. It looked like this was the end of the line for him. At least as long as he died he would be taking Bats out with him. Batman couldn’t live in a world without Joker.  It hurt so much. 

 

He forced himself to focus on the fight. Bane was about to snap Batman’s spine. Again. No. Joker followed a hunch.  “Kill him, Bane.” Joker growled before dropping his head back into the dirt. 

 

“Eh?” Bane’s foot was poised to go crashing down onto Batman’s spine. “But he dies, you do too!” As if killing Batman wasn’t the plan all along. 

 

Joker let out a sigh of relief and tasted dirt. He was right. They’d been right. 

 

“You don’t understand, Bane. Joker can’t help himself. And neither can I.” 

 

Joker had to of been high as fuck and dying because he could have sworn he saw bats - literal flying rodents - descend from the sky and swarm Bane. He closed his eyes. It hurt less when his eyes were closed. 

 

The next time Joker opened his eyes, Batman stood over him. He kneeled and helped Joker onto his hand and knees. “Get up.” They ignored the fact that Joker’s severed arm was a few feet away from them. 

 

Joker’s limbs didn’t want to hold him up. His ribs ached under Batman’s strong hand. He managed a bloody smile. “My, my. What a pair we are.” He laughed weakly.

 

“Shut up.” Batman growled. His voice was slurred and more tired than Joker had ever heard it. “Your arm…?” 

 

Was that a joke? His Bat always did have the strangest sense of humor. He shifted his gaze to the space his arm used to be. Blood poured freely from the open wound. “It looks fine.” Joker’s vision faded to black. “It only hurts when I laugh,” he manages. 

 

“Well then, I’d tell you not to laugh but I know you too well, Joker.” Batman followed his gaze to Joker’s severed limb. “If I’m correct, the antidote is in our blood. We are each other’s antidote.” 

 

Joker laughed again and pain spasmed through him. “I don’t think your blood will help me, Bats.” He shivered. When did it get so cold? “If the virus doesn’t get me, the blood loss will.” His arm gave out and Joker face planted onto Batman’s lap. His bruised cheek protested. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to end up with his face in Batman’s lap. “Not much longer now…”

 

Batman maneuvered him so that he’s laid on his back, head still on Batman’s thighs. “I’m thinking about letting you die.”

 

Joker met Batman’s eyes. “I know.”

 

“The world would be better off without you.” 

 

Joker closed his eyes. He was too tired to keep them open for more than a few seconds. “That’s debatable. Don’t think I’ve got the energy for it though.”

 

“Did you really let Nina die?” 

 

“I am utterly shocked, I mean…”  _ You just said you know me. Right?  _ “I would always choose you, Batsy darling.” Joker reached a hand up and cupped it against the back of Batman’s neck. He used the last of his strength to pull Batman’s face to his. “Save me, Batman.” Then he kissed Batman’s bloody lips. There was tongue because the point was to  _ drink  _ the blood but also because he really wanted to properly kiss Batman. And they didn’t get to French kiss while they were in Paris. Joker pulled back his tongue and swallowed down the blood. 

 

He was going to pass out, he knew it. Could feel the life draining out of him even as the fever ebbed.  _ He let me kiss him _ was the last thought he had before Joker blacked out. 

 

* * *

 

Joker had either followed the light at the end of the tunnel or he was in a hospital room. The smell of sickness and iron and antiseptic told him that it was probably the second one. The normal people of the world would be concerned to wake up and find themselves in a new location than the one they’d fallen asleep in but not Joker. He’d done it far too many times to be truly worried. Breathing didn’t hurt as much as Joker remembered it hurting last time he was conscious.  In fact, Joker felt pretty okay. That was odd because painkillers only worked on him in very large quantities. His blue eyes followed the tube of the IV stuck in his arm to a literal keg hanging from the ceiling. 

 

Huh. Well. That was new. It probably explained why he didn’t feel like death warmed over, either. For a moment Joker considered ripping the IV from his arm and went to do just that. Except he couldn’t. There was no second arm to move. Joker’s brain sent the signals but nothing happened because his arm had been severed. Right. Well. 

 

Joker stared at the spot his arm used to be in. He was wearing a hospital gown but it did little to hide the bandages wrapped around his chest. He was high as a fucking spaceship but Joker was still very aware of the tightness around him like a hug. In a hospital that meant bandages. At home it meant Harley or his weighted blanket or one of the hyenas. So. He was down to one arm. That was definitely a thing. How exactly was he going to continue to be the Clown Prince Of Crime if he was down to one arm? Almost everything he did was with two arms. He couldn’t even crochet with one arm or build a bomb with one arm. 

 

Joker’s lip quivered. His eyes filled with unshed tears that blurred his vision. How could he dance with Batman if he only had one arm to do it? What if Batman didn’t want him anymore? A low whine built in his throat. Would he lose all of Batman’s respect because he only had one arm? Did Batman think he would be easier to tame now that he only had one arm? Joker used that arm to wipe at his eyes. No. NO! He was not going to cry over this. Joker was adaptable. It was one of his best traits. If he had to find a new way to dance with Batman then he would. He would keep Bat’s interest, show him that Joker wasn’t out for the count. 

 

Speaking of Bats...where the hell was that flying rodent? Joker was alone in his room. He squinted at the posters on his walls. They were in Italian with English subtitles. So he was still in Rome. No surprise there; Joker had almost kicked the bucket. Bats wouldn’t have had time to get him home. But where was Bats? 

 

A nurse came in to the room. Her lips were red and her face pale. Joker vaguely recalled her face as one of his cronies from Paris. “ _ Mister Jack Napier, it’s good to see you awake.” _ She spoke Italian with a French accent. “ _ You’ve suffered greatly. Four splintered ribs, a concussion, strain to your spine, loss of the right arm, along with the remains of what seems to be some sort of virus in your system. The doctors here at the hospital have worked very hard to keep you alive this past week -”  _

 

“ _ WEEK?!”  _ Joker repeated in French. “ _ I’ve been here an entire week?!”  _ Usually, Joker could bounce back fairly well. He was special like that. No one could explain it. A week was an unusually long time for Joker to be in the hospital. It was a long time for him to be unconscious. Joker glanced at the keg of drugs that kept him from feeling anything. 

 

The nurse followed his gaze.  _ “They had to up your dosage of pain medication to what a large elephant would need to be, ah, put down. _ ” 

 

Joker ran his hand through his hair. It felt greasy. He made a face. If he’s been here for a week then that means they’ve also got a catheter in him. Gross. Joker licked his scars as he took in this new information. If Bats wasn’t also in this hospital then he was probably back in the United States. But Batman would never leave Joker like this so he had to be close.  _ “Where’s the Bat?”  _

 

Now the woman looked nervous. She glanced down at her clipboard to avoid Joker’s gaze.  _ “I only have suspicions. They’re keeping a man down the hall from you. His identity is a secret.”  _

 

Instantly Joker knew; it was the Bat without his face on. The urge to see him was gone. He didn’t want to ruin the game by exposing anyone's secret identity.  Joker didn’t want anything to do with whoever Batman is when he takes off the cowl. He lifted his finger and made a  _ come here _ motion to the nurse. When she obeyed the command, Joker took her clipboard and pen from her. He thought about stabbing her with the pen but she was going to be his messenger so he couldn’t do that quite yet. He scribbled out a quick message on a sticky note then surrounded his words with hearts and little bats. “ _ Give this to the man down the hall _ .” 

 

The woman took the note and hurried out of the room. 

 

Joker had no doubt that she would do what he told her to. She was one of his many loyal followers. Now all he had to do was wait. Thankfully he had plenty of practice with waiting on Batman to show up. Joker settled back against the pillows and let his eyes slip half shut. More rest would help him to heal and he would hear if anyone else came in. Probably. These drugs were pretty good. 

 

* * *

“Bats,” Joker whispered as he rose up from a drug-induced sleep. He still felt light and warm. The pain he should be feeling was a mere suggestion of actual pain. 

 

“I’m here, Jay,” Batman’s gravelly voice reassured him. He squeezed Joker’s hand. 

 

Joker opened his eyes. He rolled his head to the side with a yawn. “Hi.” 

 

Batman wore his suit and cowl. They no longer had the scent of disease and slum on them so he must have washed them somehow. Maybe Joker wasn’t the only one with followers here. There were still healing scratches on his face and a slump to his shoulders. “Hi. How are you doing?”

 

Joker smiled. “I’m trying to think of an amputee joke but I’m stumped.” 

 

Batman stared at him for a solid sixty seconds. “Oh no.” 

 

“Oh yes,” Joker chirped happily. 

 

“You are not -“ 

 

“Oh but I am -” Joker’s grin grew. 

 

“Going to start with the amputee puns.” 

 

“How do you get a one armed man down from a tree?” Joker asked. He paused for a heart beat. “You wave to him!” 

 

Batman groaned. He still hasn't let go of Joker’s hand though. That was progress. “Jay, be serious for me please. How are you doing?” 

 

Joker’s smile faded. He tapped his fingers against the back of Batman’s hand. “I keep trying to move it and it’s not there. But. You know. I’m alive. So that’s something.”

 

Batman’s edges softened a little. “Yeah.” 

 

“So what did you do with my arm?” Joker would have had to be an idiot to miss the way Batman tensed. “Bats? Where’s my arm?” 

 

For the first time Joker can ever remember, Batman looked like a deer caught in the headlights. All of his confidence was gone. Batman distinctly avoided Joker’s gaze. “If you recall, Bane had a fire going.” 

 

Joker’s eyes widened in realization. He snatched his hand back. “You. Burnt. My. Arm?!” In that moment he thought of all the pranks he could have pulled if he still had the limb. How many people he could scare and gross out with it. Joker felt like a child whose toy was taken away before he even knew what he had. 

 

“I, um, didn’t think you’d want it.” Batman admitted. His entire stance was still tense. He was no idiot when it came to Joker’s temper. “And the doctors wouldn’t have been able to reattach it.” 

 

“Well now they can’t because you  _ burned it _ !” Joker huffed. He thwacked Batman upside the head. “How am I supposed to hit people with my severed arm when you lit it on fire?!” For good measure he hit Batman a few more times. Nothing to seriously hurt; just something to make himself feel better and drive his point home. 

Batman took the abuse with grace. “I’m...sorry about your arm, Jay.” 

 

Joker shook his head. “You sorry about my ribs too?” He pointed the tender bruise on his face. “Or my face?” Joker rolled his face away from Batman. It was still a little too much energy to lift his head. 

 

Batman’s silence answered for him. 

 

“Of course not. Those will heal.” Joker rolled his eyes. “My arm isn’t going to grow back so you’ve got to feel sorry about that. Your moral code won’t let you feel anything else since it’s your fault I was a target at all.” 

 

Batman heaved a sigh. “Joker, I don’t want to fight.” His blue eyes pled with Joker through the cowl. The Bat did look tired and he had taken quite the beating; though it was still nothing compared to Joker’s beating. He slipped his hand off the bed as though suddenly realizing it was still there. So much for holding hands and making progress. “I’ve got to go back to my room before anyone misses me.” 

 

Joker huffed but his expression was amused. “What a lovely tale that makes. Boy sneaks out of his room to slip into a girl’s room while their caretakers are unaware. Does he kiss her?” 

 

Batman stood up and left without answering. 

 

Joker watched him go with a sigh. At least he got to kiss Batman once with it being reciprocated. 

 

* * *

Despite the fact that his ribs were still healing, Joker was given the okay to travel. He refused any sort of physical therapy and attempts at getting the story out of him. He didn’t  kill anyone for asking though he thought about it. As soon as he was given permission to travel, Batman booked them a flight home on a private plane. Apparently he intended to bring Joker with him despite the fact that it may be easier for him to just leave Joker in Rome and make him someone else’s problem. 

 

Joker was wheeled onto the plane despite the fact that his legs work fine. He didn’t break  _ them _ . His ribs still had a few more weeks to go and he has been off the pain medicine so he was really feeling the burn. He also felt his phantom limb but he tried to hide it. No need in making himself look pathetic or bothered by it. 

 

The inside of the plane was done up in creams and gold and both of them - Bats in his black suit and Joker in borrowed clothes - looked out of place in it. It obviously wasn’t a Bat-plane. The seats faced each other and had the option to recline. Joker snapped his teeth at the nurse who tried to help him sit in the seat then looked to his Bat for assistance. 

 

Batman reluctantly helped Joker into the seat opposite his. He even buckled Joker’s seatbelt before easing himself down opposite of Joker. Then he pulled out his phone and started opening apps. 

 

The good news was that there’s a bar and as soon as the nurse left, Joker got up to get himself something to drink. Joker mixed together drinks to make something sweet and fruity that would pack a real punch. After a moment's hesitation, he made one for Batman too. The Bat was still moving a little stiffly. Joker handed him his drink then carefully fell back into his seat. It was a luxurious plane and the seats were comfortable enough to sleep in. Joker sipped his drink, watching Batman over the brim of his glass. 

 

Bats was occupied with something. He had been for the past several days. Joker has never considered himself one to be outrageously jealous but now he found himself jealous of the phone in Batman’s hands that took all of the Bat’s attention. Batman didn’t even touch the drink except to set it aside.

 

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom announcing that they would be leaving and to remain in their seats. As if either of them was really in any condition to do anything other than sit there. 

 

Batman continued texting.

 

Joker grew bored as he sipped his drink. What would keep Bats attention off him? “It isn’t poisoned, you know.”

 

“Huh?” Batman looked up and not for the first time, Joker saw a sliver of his daytime persona. 

 

“The drink. It’s not poisoned.” Joker took another sip of his own. 

 

“If anyone could poison a drink on a private plane it would be you,” Batman replied though he didn’t sound overly concerned. His eyes dropped back down to the phone and his thumbs started moving again. 

 

Joker stared at him. What could be so important that Batman isn’t paying Joker the proper attention. He summoned the energy needed to snatch Batman’s drink and down it in one burning gulp. Sleep tugged at his consciousness. Before this Joker had never slept so much in his life. He knew that he healed faster when he was asleep and that depriving himself of sleep meant that even a papercut could become a serious, festering infection. 

 

Batman looked up again and searched his face. He leaned over and hit a button that dimmed the lights. “Get some rest, Joker. It’s a long flight.” 

 

Joker reclined his seat until it was comfortable then slumped down until his shoes touched Batman’s shoes. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He stayed awake staring at Batman until his eyelids grew too heavy to stay open. 

 

* * *

 

Once they touched Gotham soil, Joker refused to be coddled. It was mostly alright in Rome but here he had appearances to keep up. He’d spent almost a month away from his territory so he needed to make sure that the vultures hadn’t tried to swoop in. As much as he would have liked to hang out with Bats more, he needed to get back to business. “Bye, Bats.” Joker waved as he walked off the air strip. 

 

Batman let him go. 

 

Joker walked to the nearest business and asked to use their phone. He didn’t have any weapons on him - thanks, Batman - and after nearly a month his hair was losing its green color. He hadn’t even been given any makeup while he was in the hospital. Plus he was wearing borrowed clothes so he really didn’t even look like himself. It was very obvious when his presence in the little diner didn’t alarm anyone. His first call was to his favorite henchman, Dimitri. “Dimitri, baby, gather up the crew. Tell them daddy’s home and we’re going to have some fun tonight.” 

 

Once that was done, he hung up and called Harley. She screamed in his ear when he answered. Ugh. “Shut up, Hars. I need you to come pick me up.” He rattled off the address. “Now. And bring my emergency bag. I need to get out of these clothes.”

 

Harley replied with something lewd that Joker ignored. They weren’t dating at the moment and Joker wouldn’t even bother with her if he’d had a choice. She promised to be there as soon as she could. 

 

Joker accepted that. He sat down at a booth and ordered a slice of apple pie and a coffee. All the while he stared out the window. There were plans to make yet Joker’s mind wandered back to his trip around Europe with Batman. The surprise at having Bat burst through a window on the other side of the world. The fear when he realized Bats was going to die if Joker didn’t save him. The pride of showing off his cult of loyal followers.  The pain when Bane beat them up and took Joker’s arm. Joker winced with the last memory. He could still very well call up that pain and it felt almost as raw as it did when it happened. And beneath it all was the delirium and heat of the fever. 

 

He licked at his scars inside his cheeks to settle himself. His heart pounded too fast in his chest for his liking. Joker sat still and told himself to get his body under control. His fingernails dug into his thigh, the pain grounding him from a memory of pain. These things didn’t always make sense. Joker just did whatever worked. When his heart rate had returned to something normal, Joker released his thigh. He picked up his coffee mug and sipped the rest of it. The hot liquid flowing over his tongue gave him something else to think about. 

 

The squeal of tires alerted Joker to Harley’s presence before he actually saw her. She pulled up in a bright red camaro, taking up two parking spaces. There was nothing subtle about her entrance nor her red and black jester’s outfit. Harley threw the door open. “Puddin’!” She screeched at the top of her lungs upon entry. 

 

Everyone in the diner jumped except for Joker. Joker put his mug down and waved at Harley. 

 

Harley bounded over to him. “Mistah J!” 

 

“Where’s my bag, Harley?” She hadn’t noticed yet but Joker didn’t want to be here when she did. 

 

She pulled the strap of the duffle bag over her head and handed it to him.  “Where have ya been, Mistah J? I’ve been so lone -” 

 

“I’m going to change,” Joker cut her off. He slid out of the booth and kept his left side to her while he walked to the bathroom. She was going to find out. He should just tell her. Joker glanced around the diner. The other patrons had mostly gone back to eating but a few of them were giving him and Harley looks. He didn’t want to do it here. Joker walked into the disabled stall and hung his duffle bag on the provided hook. The pants and underwear were easy to get off. He had a little more trouble with the shirt, had to wiggle to get it over his head. Left in just his socks, Joker was forced to lean against the bathroom wall - at least it wasn’t sticky or wet - and peel them off one at a time. His ribs still ached. 

 

Once he was naked, Joker opened his duffle bag. He stared down at the purple suit within and for a second he wished that he’d just left the borrowed clothes on. Once he put the suit on, everyone would know that it was Joker. They were probably already suspicious but now they would have no doubts. He shook his head. Better to just get it over with. Wiggling out of his clothes had been easy - if painful - but getting into them with only one hand proved to be a challenge. Bats had helped Joker dress before they got on the plane and before that, Joker had been lounging around in a hospital gown. 

 

The thing that no one told him was that it still felt like his arm was there. Sure, it hurt like a bitch but Joker’s brain was still convinced that the limb was attached. He tried to switch hands and dropped his batman-themed underwear. Joker picked them up and tried again. One leg at a time, inching them up. This was stupid. Whatever. He wondered how long he’d been in the bathroom already. His pants were a deep, nearly black violet color.  They were a challenge as well. How often had he gotten dressed using only one hand? You don’t realize how much you take something like an entire limb for granted until it’s gone. 

 

When his pants were on, Joker felt better. The top half of his ensemble would probably be easier. It wasn’t. Joker got his left arm into the sleeve, went to do the same with his right, and remembered it wasn’t there. His dress shirt was such a light shade of green that it almost looked white. The buttons were a shade darker. It was one of his favorite shirts because it was comfortable material that didn’t agitate his sensitive skin; which was why it was in his emergency kit because every time he’d had need of it he was so banged up that only comfortable clothes would do. With a missing arm, the shirt hung awkwardly on his lean frame and the buttons were stubbornly refusing to line up with the holes. 

 

He briefly considered calling Harley in here but his face warmed at the thought. He didn’t want her to see this. It was dawning on him that everything was going to be that much more difficult. Joker had already been in the bathroom for twenty minutes and he was only half dressed. Normal things were going to take that much longer to do. Eventually Joker gave in and used his teeth to draw the dropping side of his shirt across his chest. He fumbled with every button but by the time he’d gotten to the bottom he no longer had to hold the shirt in place with his teeth. 

 

Joker’s green vest went on a little easier. It rested nicely on his shoulders and he felt pretty good about the buttons. He smiled down at himself. Almost there! Next he tackled his socks. For that, Joker had to sit on the bathroom floor. Thank god whoever ran this place made sure the bathrooms were clean. Just for that he would actually pay for his food. Maybe. At any rate, he wouldn’t shoot the place up. His socks slipped off a few times before he managed to get them on his toes and up past his heels. The shoes were laceless and went on easily. 

 

Last was his coat, which was heavy leather and only a single shade away from being black. Joker gathered up his borrowed clothes and stuffed them into the duffle bag. He opened a side pocket and pulled his gun from the midst of cosmetics. The gun went in an inner pocket of his coat. Later he’d take care of his skin - oh his poor skin was so painful - but right now he wanted to get out of this bathroom. Joker pretended like he didn’t see the gloves there too. He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and exited the bathroom. 

 

Maybe Harley wouldn’t even notice. Joker smiled. He wondered how long he could keep that charade up before she noticed. 

 

Harley stood up and waved at Joker from their table. She’d finished off his pie and coffee. Whatever. 

 

“Let’s get out of here, Harley.” Joker walked by the table on the way to the exit. He didn’t kill anyone. Plenty of people would die tonight, he rationed. Before then there were more things to take care of. 

 

* * *

Joker didn’t like how surprised Batman was to see him.  “Surely you didn’t think I’d be able to resist coming out into the lovely Gotham night air for a dance with my favorite partner, did you, Bats?” He aimed his gun and let off a shot. The bullet brushed Batman’s bicep but otherwise didn’t do any more damage. It was just to entice his Bat into playing. Hurt Batman too much and Joker wouldn’t be seeing him for an entire week. 

 

The shot worked. Batman shook himself out his surprise and chased after Joker. 

 

Joker flew across the rooftops of Gotham city. He was a monster in the night. His was the face of death. His ribs hurt. His brain told him that he had two hands and the right one was currently tingling painfully. Joker ran just out of reach - intended to keep going until his Bat was ran ragged - until he tripped. One moment he was running, the next he’d face planted onto the rooftop. His brain said he had two working arms. The reality was that he only had one and so he smashed his nose into the gritty rooftop. 

 

Batman was on him in an instant. He straddled Joker, grabbed hold of his one wrist. There was the telltale rattle of handcuffs before Batman realized that he didn’t need them. 

 

Joker’s nose bled and his body hurt. He was confused and angry and humiliated. The weight of his Bat was a comforting and humiliating one in the face of what had happened. So Joker did what he always did when he was unhappy. He laughed. Laughter poured from Joker’s mouth and rang out clear in the night. “And - ahaha - what exactly - hehe - do you plan to do with  _ those _ ?” They’d forgotten for a second. Both of them had. To his surprise, Joker felt the cuff go around his wrist anyway. Then he heard another one snap and suddenly Batman’s weight was gone and Joker was being hauled up by his wrist. “Ow!” 

 

Batman had cuffed them together. His lips were almost curved up in a smirk. ‘ _ What now’ _ that smirk seemed to say.

 

Joker snorted. “Touche, Bats.” He pushed forward and pulled with his hand at the same time, drawing Bats near him. Once they were more or less face to face, Joker smiled up at Batman. “You got me. What are you going to do with me now?” 

 

“You’re going to Arkham.” Well at least some things hadn’t changed. 

 

“Let go of my puddin’!” 

 

Both of them turned when they heard Harley’s voice. She’d snuck up on them, wielding a huge mallet.

 

“Wait -!” 

 

The mallet struck Batman hard enough that he was knocked on his ass. 

 

Joker fell with him. He groaned as he ended up half on Batman and half on the ground. Was doing this tonight really a good idea? “Harley!” 

 

“Mistah J. what are you doing down still in those cuffs?” Harley went to pull on his hand. Except there was nothing but sleeve for her to grab. The look of utter confusion on her face was priceless. 

 

Or it would have been had Batman not chosen then to speak up, “You haven’t told her?” 

 

Harley took immediate offense to that. “Mistah J. tells me everything!” She still searched for Joker’s arm. Her expressions mirrored her thoughts; she thought Joker was fucking with her somehow. Harley looked into Joker’s sleeve. 

 

“I had more important things to do.” Like let everyone know that Joker was back in town. “Harley, stop messing with my sleeve!” He struggled to sit up.   

 

“You should tell her, Joker,” Batman advised. He seemed more intent on watching this play out than taking Joker back to Arkham. 

 

Joker hissed at him. “Don’t let her distract you from our dance, Bats.” 

 

“Where is your arm!?” Harley cried. She still clung to his sleeve. 

 

“Bane ripped it off!” Joker snapped at her. He grinned at  Batman. “While Bats and I were on our honeymoon.”

 

Harley stared at them with a gaping mouth. She processed what he told her slowly. A dozen different emotions flitted across her face until finally her expression settled into a blank mask. Harley slowly stood up. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Her voice was perfectly calm as she hefted the mallet. “I’ve got a big fat gopher to exterminate.” Harley back-flipped away.

 

Joker wondered how long it would take Bane to kill her. He wasn’t even sure if Bane was in Gotham again. “She’s going to fucking die.” He burst into laughter. 

 

Batman thwacked him upside the head. “I should go after her.” 

 

“So you can get your ass kicked again?” Joker shifted his body weight and rolled on top of Batman. “Stay with me, darling. I’ll make all your fantasies come true.” Even as he said the words he felt Batman tense underneath him. Bats wouldn’t stay. 

 

Batman shimmied out from beneath Joker. He unlatched the cuff on his side and attached it to a pipe nearby. “Stay here while I go save your girlfriend.” 

 

Joker rolled his eyes. “We aren’t together.” As an afterthought he added, “right now.” 

 

Batman gave a noncommittal grunt and took off in the direction Harley had gone. 

 

Just like that their dance for the night was over unless Joker could get out of his handcuff. Normally he would just break his wrist or dislocate his thumb but now he hesitated. He only had  _ one  _ hand. Before, even when he mangled his wrists, he still had two of them and the knowledge that he could use them through the pain. His  _ one  _ good hand was nearly useless. At least until Joker adjusted to having only one hand. Until then he probably shouldn’t be breaking it. 

 

Instead, he tested the strength of the pipe he was stuck to. It didn’t give so much as an inch. Not even when he kicked it. Well this was just fucking perfect. Absolutely dandy. Joker had left his phone at home so he couldn’t even call one of his henchmen to come pick him up. He’d decided losing it was too much of a risk. What an idiot he’d been. 

 

Joker tilted his head back to look up at the night sky. Maybe he’d just stay here. The jet lag seemed to be catching up to him, albeit slowly. Joker could just stay on the roof until the sun came up and if someone didn’t come to get him by then, he would break his wrist to get free. 


	2. Friendship Is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker hangs out with some friends.

Joker fell asleep handcuffed to the roof. When he woke up the sun was rising. His only company were pigeons, cooing and looking at him curiously with their beady black eyes. He wiggled his wrist and was unsurprised to find that it was still stuck as it was last night. That just wouldn’t do. Joker frowned. The urge to go home swallowed him up. He wanted to rinse off all the travel grime - he still hadn’t even done that much - and lounge in the bathtub and use his creams and lotions to soothe his aching skin. Not to mention, he was thirsty. He squinted at the rising sun. If he got caught in the sun without his sunscreen he’d fry like a lobster.

 

The Bat hadn’t come back for him and neither had Harley. They must have found Bane. “Looks like I’m doing this the hard way, then.”

 

“Wait!”

 

Joker started. He whipped his head around.

 

A man stood a safe distance away from Joker. His black hair was slicked back and he wore an expensive suit. His baby blue tie matched the color of his eyes. He towered over Joker but everything in his body language said that he wasn’t a threat. “I, um, can get you out of there without having to, er, resort to drastic measures.”

 

Joker narrowed his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”  

 

The man looked surprised. Then he smiled self consciously. “Bruce Wayne.” He offered his hand to shake.

 

Joker did not shake Bruce Wayne’s hand. He wouldn’t even if he did have a hand to shake. Bruce Wayne was someone Joker knew by reputation and endless advertisements. The man had a finger in nearly every legitimate business in the city - and branches in other cities - and he was constantly in the tabloids. Or rather, he was in the tabloids when Batman and Joker weren’t in them. He was also more often than not on the cover of Playgirl magazine, the Times, and a whole host of others that always found new things to praise Bruce Wayne for. Joker had even kidnapped him a few times and held him hostage just for fun. “Forgive me, Brucie, what I actually meant was what the fuck are you doing here?”

 

Bruce’s lips quirked in a smile like he thought Joker was just the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “I saw you from my building,” Bruce pointed to the towering Wayne Enterprises building, “and I was worried when you didn’t seem to be moving.”

 

“So you came over to watch me sleep?” Joker deadpanned. He didn’t know what it was about Bruce Wayne that rubbed him the wrong way but boy oh boy, his hackles were rising. It always happened when he was around the playboy, which was why Joker mostly left him alone. Something about him made Joker feel stupid and angry.

 

“I came over to help you,” Bruce corrected. He pointed to the hand that was still connected to the pipe. “I can get you out of that if you need the help.”

 

Joker glared. “I don’t _need_ help when I can just break my wrist.”

 

Bruce flinched at that. His smile dropped. “There’s no need for that. Please let me help you.” How could someone who knew about the Joker sound so damn sincere? Brucie boy wasn’t one of Joker’s cult members. He didn’t seem to be a fan, either, nor someone who had a grudge against Joker (despite the aforementioned kidnappings and hostage situations). There was something about him that Joker couldn’t put his finger on. Joker didn’t like it. Bruce pulled something from his pocket. They were the slender silver tools of a lock picker.

 

Joker raised an eyebrow. “What on earth would a boy like you need things like those for? The entire city would open up to you if you asked.” As soon as he said the words, Joker wondered about that. He was undoubtedly the Clown Prince of Crime who ruled Gotham’s underground but he didn’t really rule the day-to-day or the legitimate businesses. Maybe… Joker put a stop to that train of thought. He already had a boyfriend, thank-you-very-much and Bats didn’t like to share.

 

Bruce met his eye. “You’ve kidnapped me enough times that I thought I should have something to help me get free.” He put on a stupid expression. “But I guess since I’ve told you about it, I’ll have to think of something else.” Bruce moved closer to Joker, nearly within kicking range.

 

Joker shrugged. He wasn’t going to commit either way. “I suppose I could use a hand.” He giggled.

 

Tentatively - but with much less fear than was needed - Bruce got closer. He kept one eye on Joker the whole time and his body language was tensed. But no more tensed than someone dealing with a wild fox caught in a trap. He was wary but not _afraid_. Interesting. Bruce stepped over the pipe and kneeled. The sun caught Bruce’s blue eyes and made them light up. “Promise you won’t stab me once you’re free?”

 

Joker’s breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened as he looked into those gorgeous blue eyes. Something in his chest squeezed. “Ah, I think you’ll find that I’d have a rather difficult time stabbing you, sweetie.”

 

Bruce’s pupils dilated slightly. He looked confused. “I don’t know what that means. Pinkie promise you won’t stab me.”

 

Joker huffed. “You’re leaving yourself open to all sorts of attacks.” He held out his pinky regardless. Joker was the one who initiated pinky promises, not random billionaires who had a fetish for watching clowns in bondage.

 

Bruce curled his pinky around Joker’s. Then he set to work on picking the lock. It only took a few seconds before the cuff opened and slipped off of Joker’s wrist. Bruce rocked back on his heels and looked ready to bolt. “Well, you’re free.”

 

Joker wished he could rub his wrist. The skin ached and there was a red band around it from how tight the cuff had been. Instead he rubbed it against his coat. He glanced at Bruce and laughed. “Guess I am.” He smiled, let his grin widen until his gums showed. “Thanks, Brucey, sweetie.” Joker sat up and his spine cracked. His ribs protested and Joker hissed in pain.

 

Bruce still hadn’t scampered off like a scared little lamb. He watched Joker with keen blue eyes that no longer glowed with the light of the sun. “Are you okay?”

 

Joker huffed. “Do I look otherwise?”

 

Bruce hesitated then pointed to Joker’s red ringed wrist. “Your wrist.”

 

Laughter bubbled up within him. “My wrist is the least of my problems.” He shook his head and wiped at the tears that had formed as he laughed. Joker adjusted his clothes and tipped an invisible hat to Bruce. “Well I’m off. Thanks for the _hand_ , toots.” Then he laughed again because that joke was just too good. Normally Joker didn’t like to use the same joke twice but Bruce still didn’t get it. He sauntered off.

 

“Wait!”

 

Joker paused and pivoted. It wasn’t as smooth as usual but he was also missing like eight pounds on one side. He cocked his head to the side.

 

Bruce’s face had a light dusting of pink on it. “Do you want to get breakfast with me?”

 

Joker hesitated. He _was_ hungry. But more than that, he wanted to go soak in a bathtub. He shook his head but his smile softened the blow. “Another time, when I haven’t spent most of the night on a rooftop.”

 

Bruce looked like he wanted to insist but he nodded. “It’s a date then.”

 

Joker smiled as he walked away. A date? With Bruce Wayne? Oh, Bats was going to be pissed. Then again, Bats didn’t seem to care much about Bruce Wayne. Joker went down the building’s fire escape at a snail’s pace. His mind was on the unusual encounter. What an odd person Bruce Wayne was. It might be fun to mess with him. He was halfway down when a thought occurred to him. “Hey Bruce!”

 

A few seconds later, Bruce’s head popped over the edge of the building. “Yeah?”

 

“If I come over can I use your bathtub?”

 

They probably looked strange; a mentally insane criminal yelling about bathtubs to a playboy billionaire. Joker was too far down to see Bruce’s face. “Of course!” Bruce yelled back down. “I’ll see you at the penthouse in an hour!” There was no need for him to elaborate which penthouse.

 

“It’s a date!” Joker agreed. He wouldn’t mind using a luxury bathtub. And knowing that he had an interested boy waiting for him when he got out made it that much sweeter.

 

* * *

 

There was very little that was better than a nice soak in a bathtub.

 

After his chat with Bruce, Joker had gone home and gathered up his duffle bag, which now held his emergency set of emergency clothes. He showed up at Bruce Wayne’s penthouse and had no problems getting through security. Joker knocked on the door rather than picked it and Bruce had answered with his shirt off and wet hair dripping down his shoulders.

 

There was no need to worry about Bruce having taken all the hot water. That was one benefit of being fucking rich. So Joker pushed past him with a curt hello and followed directions to the bathroom. He didn’t lock - or even close - the door because he wasn’t worried about a Peeping Bruce. How could he worry about that when Bats was always looming over his shoulder in the shadows?

 

A quick shower to rinse off the worst of the grossness and then Joker ran a bath. He poured in concoctions meant to soothe his skin and make him smell sweet. Then he got into the tub. It was comfortable as expected though the whole penthouse had an air of disuse.

 

After the rush, rush, rush of the past month and the shock of losing a limb, Joker was able to finally relax. Really relax. He loved Bats but it was hard to relax in front of a guy who got off on beating him. He sighed and sank down in the water to his nose. This was nice.

 

Joker had tried to live in the lap of luxury once - he made enough money to do so - but Bats had found him within a week and torched the place. After that, Joker tried it two more times until he was forced to admit that the money was drawing Batman’s attention in an unwanted way. After that, Joker stuck to the Narrows and living in shitholes.

 

He didn’t doze in the bathtub but Joker came close. He wouldn’t need to sleep for another day or two but he did fall into a meditative state. Joker thought over his plans - he needed to pay a visit to Two-Face to kill the men who had deflected from his gang for that two trick moron - and then debated on how he wanted to make his next bomb. Something with glitter in it. Gotham would spend _years_ cleaning it up. And if he planted more than one of these glitter bombs? Even better. If he’s smart about it, Joker could make sure that the batsuit was covered in glitter.

 

Bruce knocked on the door frame. He was out of Joker’s line of sight. “Joker?”

 

“Hmm?” Joker closed his eyes.

 

“Breakfast is ready.”

 

“Fantastic. I’m starving.” Joker’s stomach growled its agreement. He sat up in the tub and considered for a moment. “Bruce, baby, you wanna lend a poor clown a hand?” Joker could _feel_ the embarrassment coming from Bruce and it made him laugh.

 

When Joker’s laughter died down there was only silence ringing in their ears. Bruce sighed softly, a sound Joker probably wasn’t supposed to hear. “Okay.” He stepped into the bathroom and appeared to be trying to look anywhere but at Joker. He had put a shirt on. Bruce scooped up the towel from the counter before nearing the tub. He still refused to look directly at Joker.

 

Joker leaned against the tub and gave Bruce a knowing smile. “Why won’t you look at me?”

 

“I don’t want to...make you uncomfortable,” Bruce replied, still unable to meet Joker’s eye. His face was such a pretty pink.

 

Joker’s smile widened. “Is it the missing arm or my cock that has you all flustered?”

 

Bruce’s pupils dilated again. Interesting. “A little of both,” he admitted. Bruce’s baby blues slid over to look at Joker headon. His gaze flitted to Joker’s stump but he didn’t seem disgusted, just sad about it. He only lingered there for a moment before he was moving on to the rest of Joker’s body. Or what he could see of it in the water.

 

“Help me up.” Joker held out his hand.

 

Bruce took it and pulled Joker to his feet with ease like Joker weighed no more than a ragdoll.

 

“Whoa there, big boy,” Joker grinned but his heart pounded like horse’s hooves in his chest. That strength. Dear lord, that strength. “Wouldn’t want to be a double amputee.” He winked.

 

Bruce let go so fast it was like he’d been burnt.

 

Joker wobbled on his feet, knocked off balance by the sudden loss of weight.

 

Before he could fall, Bruce caught him around the middle. “I’m making everything worse, aren’t I?” His clothes were wet from the proximity. He sounded tired.

 

Oh my, those reflexes. Joker grinned. He couldn’t help it. Nor could he help the way his heart fluttered like a little bird in his chest. “I’d say this is a definite improvement.” He poked Bruce’s hip. “But I’m getting pruney so get me out of here.”

 

Bruce snorted. He bodily picked Joker up and set him on his feet on the plush bath mat. The towel was wrapped around Joker’s shoulders and Joker didn’t miss the way Bruce’s fingers pressed into his good shoulder; subtly checking for damage. “I think you’ll get to keep your arm.”

 

Joker laughed as he shrugged the towel off. “You’re impressive for a playboy, but you’re no Bane.” He moved past Bruce to get to his bag and pulled out his creams and lotions, stuffing some of the smaller ones into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to take two trips. Then he went back into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub.  Most of the ointments were made by he himself because his skin typically reacted badly to generic products. None of the products were labeled but Joker didn’t need labels to know what was in them or what order to put them on.

 

The first was a white cream that dulled the worst sensations a bit to make him able to stand clothes touching him. It was infused with aloe vera that helped protect his skin. He rubbed it everywhere he could reach but the problem was that he couldn’t reach everywhere. Joker couldn’t even get his forearm. For a moment he just stared at his bare forearm and the space where his right arm should be. “If you’re going to stare at me you might as well make yourself useful, Bruce.”

 

Bruce didn’t ask if he was sure. He took the cream and examined it then dipped his fingers in. It was cool to the touch and had a very subtle scent. His fingers were more calloused than those of a billionaire playboy had any right to be. He was gentle, though, as he rubbed the cream into Joker’s skin, going over all the places he’d missed.

 

Joker was still beneath him. His mind never really stopped but it was puttering at an awfully slow pace, telling him the same thing over and over: he’s touching you and it doesn’t hurt. Could Bruce feel his heart pounding through his chest? The next product was an amber scented lotion that made his skin soft as silk. This one was more for his vanity than anything else. Joker handed Bruce the bottle without a word.

 

Bruce rubbed this into his skin as well. He was thorough and handled Joker with a restrained strength. Did he always hold himself back?

 

The thought made Joker shiver. It was equally terrifying and arousing.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Mhm.” Joker nodded for emphasis.

 

Bruce started with his back but now that that was done, he moved on to Joker’s arm. His neck. His chest. Bruce moved around to Joker’s front. He rubbed the lotion into Joker’s abdomen, his hips. His hands kept wandering lower until he was smoothing lotion into Joker’s thighs.

 

They were both ignoring the fact that Joker was hard now. Joker was an expert in ignoring how turned on he got - usually during fights with the Bat - so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. Those big, rough textured hands felt lovely on his body. He watched Bruce’s face to see how he would react to it. “I think my boyfriend might be jealous.”

 

Bruce glanced up from where he was working lotion into Joker’s knees. “Your boyfriend?” His voice was a lower pitch.

 

“He doesn’t like to share,” Joker replied without elaborating. He locked eyes with Bruce and felt it again, that tug at his heart. This was stupid. Joker wasn’t in love with _Bruce Wayne_.

 

Bruce hummed in his throat. He smoothed both palms down one pale calf. There was a scar across his palm, the tissue raised quite a bit from the skin. “I can’t say I blame him.”

 

“You aren’t even going to ask who he is?”

 

Bruce laughed, not in an unkind way. “Batman, right? Everyone knows about you two.”

 

Joker nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak. He was deep in memory lane now, reviewing old fights again and dissecting words, actions, motives.  He needed to reanalyze, to see if what Bruce said was true. Joker knew that his love for Batman was openly one sided. Bat loved him - wanted him, needed him - but he was always very private and closed off about it. It took a lot of reading between the lines to realize that Bats was just as in love with Joker as Joker was in love with Bats.

 

Bruce finished with the lotion. “What’s next?”

 

Joker picked up a jar. He held it out and then closed his fingers around it. “This is for scars only. So if you don’t want to...touch them tell me now and I can do it myself.” Slowly he unfurled his fingers to allow Bruce to either rise to the challenge or not.

 

Bruce met his eye as he took the jar and opened it. He stood up and moved behind Joker to start with his back again. “Will you tell me how you got these?”

 

“Batman,” Joker answered. He knew that wasn’t what Bruce wanted to hear.

 

“He sounds like a lousy boyfriend.”

 

Joker shrugged. “He’s got his issues, I’ve got mine. It works.”

 

Bruce traced a scar parallel with Joker’s spine. “What’s this one from?”

 

Joker knew which one it was. It was one of his more sensitive scars. Seven inches in length and two across, it was also one of his more impressive scars. Joker laughed softly to himself. “You know how Batman always has that grappling gun?”

 

Bruce made a pained noise, already guessing where the story was going.

 

“Let’s just say that ever since I got that scar, I’ve been _very_ careful about where I stand in relation to Batman.” Joker almost never stood above Batman anymore unless he was behind him and even then, Joker kept a close eye on his counterpart. “Bats didn’t mean to, I don’t think. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

 

“Does he know it’s there?” Bruce moved on to another scar. He touched them like he was touching something sacred.

 

Joker shrugged. He couldn’t remember if Batman had ever noticed or said anything about it. Just another scar among dozens.

 

Despite the amount of scars, they didn’t cover a whole lot of square footage on Joker’s body and Bruce finished with it quickly. He wasn’t squeamish about any of it; not even the fleshy scar of Joker’s amputated arm.

 

Overtop it all, Joker had a homemade sunscreen so that he wouldn’t burn every time he went outside. He passed it over to Bruce. There were so many questions he wanted to ask but he didn’t want to scare off Bruce Wayne. Not enough for him to balk and leave Joker. Not when they now had this shaky truce. Or whatever it was between them.  His skin tingled and he was still hard. “Give me a minute?”

 

Bruce nodded and left. He partially closed the bathroom door.

 

Joker didn’t close it all the way. He sat for a moment on the edge of the tub and dug his nails into his palm. He glanced over at himself in the mirror and unsteadily got to his feet. He picked at imperfections on his face and used Bruce’s mouthwash. Joker stayed in the bathroom until he wasn’t hard and his pulse had steadied somewhat. On his way over out of the bathroom, he scooped up the towel and put it over his shoulders.

 

“Why did you bring a gun?” Bruce stood next to the duffle bag. He wasn’t even going to pretend not to be going through Joker’s stuff.

 

Joker didn’t even look up. He started to towel dry his hair. If he let it dry on its own for too long it curled too much. “Don’t mind that, sweetie. It’s just part of my emergency supplies.” This towel was amazing. “I’m not going to shoot you.”

 

“That’s a relief since I didn’t think to add that to our pinky promise,” Bruce said loud enough for Joker to hear. “Can we amend the pinky promise?”

 

Joker burst out laughing. Now he looked over at Bruce and suddenly he wanted very much to wrap his arms around Bruce’s neck and reach up on his tiptoes to kiss him. Normally he would give in to such an impulse but Bruce was right next to his gun and Joker didn’t want this to end like his dances with Bats. “I’d need proper incentive.”

 

“Is breakfast a good incentive?”

 

“Nope. You promised me breakfast before I even came over.” Joker nudged Bruce’s ankle with his foot and nearly fell over.

 

Bruce caught him - again - and settled him on his feet properly.

 

Joker continued, “You can’t turn a promise into a treat for good behavior.” He wasn’t sure that he wanted Bruce watching him get dressed on his own but then he decided to fuck it and grabbed his Batman-themed underwear. All of his underwear were Batman-themed. He sat on the edge of Bruce’s bed so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by falling over again. It turned out that that eight pounds had been extremely useful in aiding his balance.

 

Bruce hovered like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “What can I give you to assure you don’t shoot me?”

 

Joker raised an eyebrow in amusement. He lifted his hips to settle his underwear in place. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Joker started on his pants. He tipped onto his back and struggled with his pants. Last time he’d done this there was a wall to support him.

 

“Need help?” Bruce smirked at him.

 

Joker huffed. “I’ll accept your assistance but it’s not proper payment.”

 

Bruce kneeled between Joker’s legs and pulled his pants up to his thighs. “This isn’t normally what happens when I get someone in my bed.”

 

Joker laughed. He was getting hard again. “This isn’t what normally happens when I get into someone’s bed.”

 

Bruce’s eyes widened a little. “So you and Bats…”

 

Joker cracked up at that. He had dreamt of it but Bats was stubborn and shy and tried to be moral. Somehow fucking his greatest enemy fell solidly into black territory for Bats. “Oh god, no! We’re in love, made for each other, all that jazz but Batsy is way too scared to fuck me.” Joker lifted his hips for Bruce.

 

“Afraid?” Bruce’s brow furrowed. He settled Joker’s pants into place, pulled up the zipper, and buttoned the button. “I can see why he’d be afraid of you.” He backed off once that was done.

 

“As you can see, I’m absolutely terrifying.” Joker sat up and dug his shirt out of the bag. “Bats isn’t scared of me. He’s scared of what needing me means about himself.”

 

“Are you always this open about your relationship?”

 

“No.” Joker said through the shirt in his mouth. He buttoned the first two buttons before speaking again. “I feel like I can trust you, Bruce.”

 

Bruce’s stomach growled. He smiled. “Are you ready to eat?”

 

Joker did two more buttons and left the fifth open. It showed off a nice triangle of flat abdomen. “Am I!” He followed Bruce out to the kitchen. Joker pursed his lips as he looked down at the food that Bruce had made. He didn’t particularly want to get punched - and to be honest he wasn’t too sure about the rules of this game so maybe punching would happen - but he was not going to eat that. None of that was going to go near his mouth. Slowly he turned to Bruce. “You don’t know how to cook do you, rich boy?”

 

“Alfred usually cooks for me,” Bruce muttered. He had the decency to look ashamed. “And I usually do better but, uh,”

 

“You had an extremely attractive naked man in your bathtub. You’re lucky I like to be flattered.” Joker sighed as he surveyed the substances that used to be food. “Throw it all away. I’ll make breakfast since apparently you’re helpless.”

 

Bruce moved to obey without a word. He scraped the food into the trash and then went to the sink to rinse the dishes.

 

Joker checked the fridge and saw it well stocked. Someone must do his shopping for him since it was obvious Bruce couldn’t cook to save his life. Breakfast foods weren’t even difficult to make. He decided on omelets and got to work. It was fairly easy to do them one-handed and they were fast. Joker liked to think of himself as independent and the help with his bathroom routine was bad enough. By making breakfast - and being better at it than Bruce - he could claim some of his independence back.

 

Though he watched Joker from the corner of his eye, Bruce didn’t try to intervene with the cooking. He washed and dried the dishes in silence.

 

While Bruce did that, Joker fried bacon and poured orange juice. He made a fresh pot of coffee. It was all disgustingly domestic. Like one of those moments he sometimes caught himself in with Harley but far more relaxing because Bruce just shut up. “Now we eat,” Joker announced.

 

Bruce spread the food out on the island bar and poured them both cups of orange juice and coffee. “It smells good.” His stomach growled again.

 

“It tastes as good as it smells,” Joker promised. He pulled a stool out and sat down. Unlike getting dressed, eating was something that Joker had had practice with at the hospital. After a month, he was confident with his ability to feed himself and not look like a toddler while doing it. And after a month it felt good to eat real food rather than hospital food. He moaned around his omelette.

 

Bruce froze for a few seconds at the sound of Joker’s moan, his fork hovering halfway to his mouth. Then he snapped out of it and took his first bite. “Oh.”

 

Joker smiled.

 

“This is delicious.” He shoved more into his mouth. Bruce ate fast. He ate like someone who had been to prison - or Arkham - and wasn’t sure when he would get his next meal or if someone else would try to take it. It was odd behavior for someone who didn’t have to worry about those things. Between mouthfuls he said,  “I didn’t know you could cook.”

 

Joker shrugged. “Why would you know that about me?” He was pleased that his cooking skills were being praised. Joker liked to be praised, though that rarely happened.

 

Bruce paused again. He stared down at his omelette, troubled. “I don’t know. I just don’t really think about what super villains do in...normal, everyday situations.”

 

“Probably the same thing you non-super villains do.” Joker tried not to take offense. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know that, er, most people didn’t think of the criminals as actual people. Bats certainly seemed to forget often enough. Why would Bruce Wayne be any different? Like Bruce, Joker ate fast. It wasn’t the other inmates that Joker had to worry about stealing his food; it was the orderlies who thought they’d have some fun with him by depriving him of basic necessities.

 

In only a few minutes they were both finished eating. “Thank you for cooking.” Bruce got up to do the dishes again.

 

Joker idly twirled the last of his orange juice in the glass. “Don’t get used to it, Mr. Wayne. I’ve got a boyfriend.” He pushed away from the table and got to his feet. “I’ve got to get going.” Joker left the kitchen to wander back to the bedroom for his duffle bag and the items still in the bathroom.

 

Bruce followed him. A few times he opened his mouth like he was going to say something but in the end he never did. Once Joker had all of his things he followed him back out to the elevator.

 

Joker didn’t make it any easier on him. He spun around and placed a quick kiss on Bruce’s cheek. “See ya around, doll.” Then he stepped into the elevator.

 

* * *

 

Joker held a gun to the temple of one of his ex-men.  His grin showed off all his teeth. “Still think the grass is greener on the other side, Knuckles?”

 

Knuckles’ skin was white as a sheet. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples. “N-no, boss.” His pupils were narrow pinpricks of black among a bloodshot sea of white. Knuckles shook as he waited for Joker to kill him. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

Joker’s grin widened. His Glasgow scars stretched. He moved the barrel of the gun away from the temple then squeezed off a round.

 

Blood sprayed and Knuckles fell onto his side. His body twitched and spasmed, eyes darted around his skull. He didn’t die.

 

“I would go so far as to say that the grass is a whole lot redder on this side of the fence, wouldn’t you, Knuckles?” Joker cackled. He moved on to the next man and then the next and did the same for all four of them.

 

His own loyal, non-deflecting men were silent behind him. They were all sweating but they all knew that being part of Joker’s gang was a ride and die type of gig. They were pawns in Joker’s game with Batman.

 

Joker shook his head in mock disappointment. “A guy goes on his honeymoon and suddenly the gang thinks he’s gone _soft_.” He waved the gun to summon his able-bodied gang members and left the warehouse.

 

“Does the Batman know it was a honeymoon?”

 

Joker stopped. He pivoted to look up at the rafters. It was shadowed but he could make out the shape of Harvey Dent. “Finally decided to talk to me, eh, Two-Face? Or did _the coin_ decide for you?”

 

Two-Face didn’t answer. It was hard to get real answers out of him when he needed the coin to verify his choices.

 

“Keep your paws off of my stuff,” Joker warned with a smile. Something silver flashed; just the coin. Joker didn’t react to it.

 

Two-Face used his Joker Voice. Which was a tone he specifically used for Joker because it was just the right amount of curious and uncaring. “Did the Batman do that to you?”  

 

Joker glanced at his missing arm. He hadn’t yet had a chance to tailor all his suits to match the missing limb. The sleeve hung limp on his shoulder. None of his goons had asked about it yet. “The same as he fucked up your face.”

 

Two-Face nodded because he understood. Something had happened to Joker because of Batman but it wasn’t something Batman personally did to him. “The Coin said taking them was advisable.”

 

“I know it did, honey.” Joker sometimes felt uncomfortable with blaming Harvy for things that weren’t necessarily his fault. Sure, the poor fool couldn’t give himself more than two options but whose fault was that? The funniest thing about it was that Two-Face didn’t even know any coin tricks. He let it be fate _on purpose_. “I’ll tell you what, you can keep them.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Joker opened his apartment door, Harley was in his face. “We need to talk, Mistah Jay. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer!”         

 

Joker wondered if it would be too late to crash at Bruce’s place. He pushed past her and made his way to the kitchen. He didn’t want to be sober for this. “Talk if you must, Harley.”

 

Harley followed him, hands on her hips. “Where did you go, how did you lose your arm, and when did you and Bats make it official?”

 

Joker poured himself a wine glass full of tequila because he was classy like that. He nudged one of the hyenas out of the way so he could go to their living room. “We’ve always been official, girl buddy.” Joker reminded Harley of her place in his life. He flopped down on the couch. “Well you remember how my fingers and skin turned that terrible color? Turns out I was infected by a virus created by Bane and the cure was drinking Batman’s blood, which the World’s Greatest Detective only figured out _after_ my arm came off.”

 

Harley followed him out into the living room and sat down on the couch next to him. “I tried to give Bane a real stern beating but the Bat caught up to me before I could and I spent all night fighting him.”

 

“Sounds nice.” Joker took another drink so that he wouldn’t break the glass in his hand. Harley had hijacked his boyfriend!  “I spent all night handcuffed to a rooftop.”

 

Harley flinched. “I’m sorry, puddin’! I just wanted to get even with Bane.”

 

Joker glowered at her. “And how exactly were you going to do that? You think you’ve got the strength to remove Bane’s entire arm?” He laughed at her then, at the mere thought of Harley attempting it. Bane could kill her with a single backhand. With less thought than it would take to kill a fly.

 

“Well I’m glad you got out of that handcuff,” Harley tried to snuggle up next to him.

 

Joker pushed her away. He still smelled like Bruce’s apartment and if she noticed then she’d throw a fit about it.

 

But Harley, like most bitches, had a good nose. She wrinkled hers now and threw him a hurt look. “You don’t smell like you spent a night on the rooftop. You been seein’ someone other than me?”

 

“Bruce Wayne,” Joker deadpanned. He knew that Brucie boy could handle whatever Harley threw his way.

 

Harley’s jaw dropped. “You spent the morning at Bruce Wayne’s place? How’d you manage to land him?”

 

Joker blamed the alcohol for bringing a flush to his face. “Actually, he asked me over.” He poked her hard in the thigh. “Is that so hard to believe?” His challenge was blatant and petty but Joker didn’t care. No one was going to say that he was undesirable. Especially not someone obsessed with him.

 

“I thought he was straight!” Harley blurted out.

 

Was Bruce straight? Joker had never heard of him going out with another man but that didn’t mean Bruce wasn’t in the closet. Bruce hadn’t really made any moves aside from showing up to their breakfast nearly almost naked but not quite and running lotion into Joker’s skin. Joker stared down into his drink and shrugged. “He won’t be by the time I’m done with him.”

 

Harley flinched at his wording but didn’t argue. Joker had a way of making people fall in love and lust after him. “What is it you see in that pretty boy slut?”

 

Joker grinned. “Ya got it in one, Hars.” He took a drink. “ _He’s_ a pretty boy slut, _I’m_ a pretty boy slut.” Actually that was an angle Joker hadn’t thought of before. The holes that Bruce used for his dick didn’t bother Joker because he understood. But if they were both sluts then they could be sluts together. “We’re a perfect match!”

 

Harley whined. “But Mistah J, I thought you loved me!” She advanced again, unconcerned by the fact that he’d pushed her away once already.

 

Joker spilled his tequila pushing her away a second time. “Jesus, get outta here. You want some so bad then go see the plant lady or whose that weird one you like? Croc? Yeah. Go fuck _him_.”

 

“But he’s _too big!”_ Harley wailed. She threw her arms around him. The wine glass shattered on the floor. “Besides, I want _you_.”

 

Joker bunched his feet beneath her and kicked as hard as he could.

 

Harley went flying off the couch. She landed with a cry that was more put out than real pain. “I haven’t seen you in a month and you lose a damn arm and now you won’t even have sex with me anymore!?”

 

“What does my arm have to do with this?” Joker leaned down to jeer at Harley and ended up toppling over into the broken glass. He laughed. “I don’t want to have sex with you. End of story. Period.”

 

Harley gasped. She was at his side in an instant and didn’t hesitate to manhandle Joker exactly how she wanted to. “Let me get that glass out for you, Puddin’. I promise I won’t try again tonight.”

 

Joker was used to licking his own wounds but every now and again it was nice to let someone else lick them. He allowed Harley to carefully pull the glass from his ass and legs. “I ain’t made of glass despite the amount I’ve got in my ass.”

 

“I know,” Harley whispered back. She was gentle with him as she picked out the last of the shards.

 

“Good.” Joker got up and plopped himself into the window seat. He pressed his forehead to the glass and looked out into the Gotham night. What was his Bat doing right now? Did he pine for Joker like Joker did for him? _Don’t be silly; of course he does._


End file.
